Ho Oh No
by IEatBooksForTea
Summary: A short story about what happens when eight almost-adults attempt to do a civilized round of Secret Santa. Hilarity, Embarrassment and Questions of Existence ensues. Set between the events of the prologue and the main game. Merry Christmas, everyone!
1. Chris

Chris

"What do I do?" Chris stares at the harmless strip of paper clutched in his terrified fingers. As much as you might think, he is __not__ having an existential crisis. Nor is he contaminated by the fact that this single strip of paper is evidence of tree cruelty. #FreeTheTrees. No. Being one track minded as he is, he is instead horrified by the black lettered name scrawled in the centre of the paper. ****Ashley**** **.** "What do I __do__?"

"Bro," Josh rolls his eyes. Being the best friend he is, he is sprawled lazily at Chris' side, slamming his thumbs on the buttons of the X-box controller as he slices and dices his enemies through the flat screen television. His eyes don't even move to Chris. Instead he slams his pitchfork into a zombie's stomach. "Hah! Take that!" The zombie growls and splutters. "Just take her on a trip," he mutters between swings. Whether he is talking to the zombie or Chris is anyone's guess.

Chris has torn his gaze from the incriminating piece of paper and is now staring at his best friend. "What?" he blinks as if he's horrified at the expense of any said trip. "Where?"

Josh's face curls with mischief. He whacks another zombie over the head. "To the bone zone."

Chris groans. He sounds like the zombie. He throws the paper at Josh as if he's throwing the duty onto him. Not a responsible idea, Chris. Josh would probably buy her something very inappropriate.

"I'm serious, Josh," Chris crumbles back against the sofa, smothering his face with his hands. "I have to get her something she'll like."

Josh quirks one eyebrow, fingers scrambling on the controller. "I'm pretty sure she'd like __my__ suggestion."

Chris jabs his elbow into Josh's side. Josh jerks, swearing as a zombie almost eats him. His thumbs clamber over the buttons. He lets out a breath as soon as he's finally recovered his winning streak.

"Bro," Josh strings out a long, bored sigh. It's probably contaminating the air with all his carbon dioxide. "She'll like anything you get her."

"But she won't __know__ it's from me! That's the point."

Another eye roll from Josh. One day, they are going to roll out of his sockets and he's going to be rolling all the way to the ER.

"You think it's that easy?" Chris scoffs, setting his eyes on his best friend. "Who did __you__ get?"

As easily as he breathes – and ruins the atmosphere – Josh just shrugs.


	2. Ashley

Ashley

"Well, __this__ will be fun," Ashley mutters sarcastically, staring at the line of luxurious, hundred-dollar handbags as if they are aliens. They probably are. Pesky little aliens, disguising themselves as fashion items. Hm. Maybe that's why fashion catwalks are so odd... Sidetracked!

Ashley pokes herself out of her imagination. Again. Well done, Ash. Imagination isn't going to buy her presents. It _will,_ however,transport her far, far away from here, though. Because "here" is somewhere she'd rather not have existed in the first place.

The mall.

She groans, trying to survey the handbags and clothing and fashion accessories in the eyes of someone entirely _not_ 'her'. Because here she is, in the centre of a shop, in the centre of a mall, buying for, of all people; Emily.

She swears at fate. Fate growls back.

If this had not been reality and, instead, a Rom Com, fate would have worked with her. Fate would have let her pick Chris' name out of the tatty Santa hat. Or if she'd been the star of some fancy Action Movie, she'd have plucked Mike's name out. She would have even settled for ditzy comedy with Jess. But fate doesn't work in bargains. Ugh. Horror movie it is.

"Excuse me," the shop assistant smiles sweetly as she croons at Ashley's side. "Can I help you?"

"Please save me from this hell! __I beg you!__ I have been cursed by the fate of Festivities! I shall __never__ survive this! O, woe is _me_!"

Is what she __would__ have said.

Instead, like the nice girl she is, she just smiles politely back, "No thank you. I'm just looking."

Forever, perpetually looking. Her eyes are beginning to bulge out of her head. She plucks at a tag hanging from one of the handbags, staring in horror at the price. $300! She gasps, flinging her hand back as if the paper of the label itself has burned her.

She cringes. Ouch.

She tentatively shrugs. Well. If Josh ever needs to make up to Emily, this would be a good place to start. Mental note made.

But, as it just can't seem to leave her alone, fate pokes her in the side with a big dose of Emily. Who just _happens_ to be strolling past, tugging Matt behind her, at just that second. Typical.

It takes a gasp and a yelp to kick Ashley down and duck her between the rails of far-too-expensive clothing. And it takes one hold of her breath to grab the nearest and cheapest looking item, lunge towards the cashier – swearing at the actual price when it's rung through her card – and sprint out the door.


	3. Emily

_Emily_

"Em," Matt muses behind her. She tugs hard on his arm. "Last time I checked, Mike doesn't wear... this kind of stuff." He plucks at a strange looking, neon bright dress and pom poms hanging off it, and he visibly grimaces. She cringes. Even _she_ wouldn't wear that. Then she proceeds to growl at Matt.

"We are _not_ talking about Mike," Emily huffs, dropping Matt's arm and picking up something slightly more attractive. Mike is _not_ on the radar today. Or ever. Please and thank you.

"I thought we were Secret Santa shopping," Matt mumbles simply, evidently surveying the mess of the fashion shop encasing him with a less than eager expression

"Oh, Sweetie," Em coos at him, a sweater hanging limply from her hand. "That's what I said to get you out of the house."

He doesn't even respond. Just narrows his eyes. Good.

When Emily had picked Mike's name out of that tacky, Santa hat, she had wanted to swear and scream at the universe. Instead, she'd just played her smug face, flicked her hair and even passed flirty looks at a bewildered Matt. Poor guy. He didn't know what was coming.

She had already considered what she might be get her cheating ex. Luckily, it wouldn't cost much at all. How would a turd look in a gift bag? She would even put a bow on it.

Mike wouldn't have a hard time guessing who it was from.

"Was that Ash?" Matt suddenly hums aloud as he cranes his head back to catch a glimpse of the figure darting away.

Emily purses her lips, pressing a dress against her body, surveying herself in a nearby mirror. Hm. Not good enough. "Like she'd be caught dead in here." At least that much was true.

For a moment, Matt lets her ruffle through clothes in silence, between her huffs and disapprovals of every piece of an attempt at fashion. Only for a moment.

"Hey, Em," Matt's voice lilts playfully from behind her. Emily rolls her eyes, humouring him as she turns to face him. She snorts, holding back laughter. Because he's standing there, pressing a ridiculously red, lace set of underwear against himself, posing like a swimwear model. "How do I look?"

Her lips quirk up in a smirk. He thinks he's so funny. She's pretty sure she hears the customer assistant laugh. Emily almost glares at her.

Then Emily snips her face back to unimpressed. Nope. She wouldn't lower herself to that level of humour.

"Very funny, Matt," she tries to say with a straight face as she turns away, smothering her grin with another, interesting sweatshirt. Then. "Hey," a thought occurs to her. "You never told me. Who did you get?" Emily eyes him slowly.

"Uh, I got Josh," Matt shrugs suddenly, caught off guard.

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. Then, in a flash of inspiration, Emily lets her lips rise up in a slow smirk. She grabs the underwear from Matt's clutches and marches over to the counter.

"Uh, Em, what are you do-"

Emily slams the underwear, hanger and all, onto the counter, at the clerks surprise. "We're buying this for Josh."


	4. Josh

Josh

For the record, it was never his idea to do this whole 'Secret Santa' thing. In his non-existent books – because when did Josh ever read? - it's far too cheesy and cliché for his liking. Or anyone's liking for that matter. He would much rather just stay home, playing some hipster equivalent to Call of Duty or Resident Evil.

But Sam had been way too excited at the idea. She'd bounced like a bunny – a very irritating bunny – all bubbling with the idea. It was a way to get the gang back together again, she'd insisted. Even Emily wouldn't be able to resist the mention of presents.

Josh distinctly remembered groaning the first time she'd suggested it. Which had earned him an instant glare from her.

"I think it's a _great_ idea!" Ashley had almost squealed with delight, clapping like a seal. The bunny and the seal cheered.

"Bah humbug," Josh had grumbled, stuffing another bite of his hamburger into his mouth.

"What?" Sam had hooked her hands at her waist and given him a pointed look. At that exact moment, Chris was mid chew, glancing between his best friend and this horrid idea spewing bunny. The three of them had been meeting up like this for the last couple of weeks since Josh had left school. It was a secluded enough cafe and close enough to the school so that Chris and Sam could easily escape during lunch time. And, of course, Chris being Chris, he'd had to drag Ashley along with him.

Sigh.

"Fine," Josh had finally spat out, pieces of hamburger flying with it. Ashley had grimaced wildly, flinging her arms out in case crumbs dared to land on her. But that wasn't about to make Josh stop talking while he was eating. Food couldn't wait for anything. "But I'm not buying anything."

"Fine," Sam had reiterated.

And then her eyes had lit up with endless ideas. And Josh had questioned why he'd even dared to stop her.

Josh sighs, staring at the limp decorations Sam had insisted he put up for the not-so festive season. Since his sisters had... well, they were gone. And it felt like his parents were less and less around, the house felt emptier than it ever had. Decorations did not help. Especially when they were crappy ones from the sale section in Target.

He had even attempted to buy anything for this Secret Santa gig, even though Sam had pretty much forced him to host it in his house. Said it would make the place feel more lively. Yeah, thanks Sam. That's exactly what the decorations did.

Just at that moment, a strip of tinsel unhooks itself from Josh' home made fastenings – sticky tape – and flops onto the floor. Sigh. For the record, he is not going to pick that up.

Josh flicks through the channels on the television, cursing through cheesy, Christmas movies and terribly overdone classics that everyone can recite right about now. Then his phone lights up with a message. And, for a split second, his heart thumps at the idea that it might be from Sam. Not that he wants anything to do with her. Obviously.

But then it flops again when he sees its from Chris.

CHRIS: U think Ash wud like this?

He's attached some picture of some kitschy necklace, Josh can't be bothered to look. Sure, Chris' phone is all kitted out to take the best photographs. He just never seems to be able to use them.

JOSH: Like hell I'd know. Send her a dick pick.

Josh snorts. Even if Chris did, Ashley would have no idea what she was looking at.

Resolutely, Josh switches off his phone, satisfied when it turns black.

Ah. Now where's It's A Wonderful Life when you need it?


	5. Matt

Matt

Okay. So maybe he'd lied. Just a little. Just a tiny bit.

Because Matt isn't buying for Josh. When he'd pushed his hand into the Santa hat they'd passed around, it had been Jess' name that he'd plucked out.

But, unless he's suddenly developed a complete, no-fear soul – or consumed a _lot_ of alcohol – he can't tell Em. Is he crazy?

She's already pretty much ready to murder Jess. Matt is trying his best not to get caught in the crossfire.

He also cannot, under any circumstances, give Jess that lewd pair of underwear. He swears under his breath. What the hell is he going to do with it? Maybe he could give it to Josh after all.

He leans over the computer screen, aimlessly clicking through shopping sites. He can't afford to be seen in the mall, not again. Not in case Emily is there – or Jess. Or anyone. Generally, the mall is not a place that Matt visits very often if he can help it. It's like walking on the moon.

Not the awe-inspiring, new world kind of moon. More like the suffocating, there's no gravity, I'm going to die kind of moon.

Matt huffs through the endless loophole that is the pages and pages of Amazon. Make up; no. He doesn't have the slightest clue what is used for what. Or whether Jess even puts it on her face. Not that he'd even looked. How could anyone tell what parts of a face had make up and what parts didn't? Women are weird creatures.

Clothes; again, nope. He doesn't even know her size. And if Jess is anything like Em, he'll be in with a hell of a telling off if he bought anything that was remotely unfashionable.

Matt groans, leaning back in his creaking chair, smothering his face with his hands. What the hell is he going to do? He is very much contemplating not buying anything at all and just pretending that he forgot.

Just then, his phone pings. Through slitted fingers, he grudgingly picks it up and lights up the screen.

EM: Who the hell does she think she is?

Matt rolls his eyes when he opens the screenshot Emily has sent him. It shows one of Jess' most recent Instagram posts, one of her posing in front of a mirror, layered with filter upon filter. She's wearing some fancy Christmas outfit – not that Matt knows any better – and she's captioned it; Killin' it.

"Whatever, Em," Matt sighs, tired of their endless cat fight.

Then he stops. And studies the picture of again.

"Huh," he hums as he spots the thing Jessica is holding in her hand, reflected in the mirror. Quickly, he pulls up a new page on Amazon and types ferociously, finding what he wants. This could work. She likes her phone. Everyone likes their phones. Great idea, Matt! He congratulates himself.

Satisfied, he clicks the __add to cart__ button and orders it immediately. Gift wrapped, obviously. That function is the best thing Amazon has ever offered.

Let's just hope it arrives in time.


	6. Mike

Mike

He had been dreading picking one of the girl's names. He knew that if he picked one of them, he'd actually have to put in some effort into the gift. He's already pretty exhausted from being class president and actually keeping his current girlfriend happy, he really doesn't have any energy left over to actually deal with normal, first life problems. Like buying presents for Secret Santa's.

But it had taken one look at the name he'd picked for Mike to let out a breath of relief and relax. Matt. This would be easy.

He had already thought about claiming that Matt had already received his present three months ago – when Mike had covered for Matt when the latter had sneaked out to football practice instead of actually doing his homework. Turns out being class president gives you a lot of perks.

But Jess would boo him for not getting in the Christmas spirit. And Em would probably square him in the face with a punch. He could do with avoiding that.

"I'm home," Mike drawls as he shuts the front door of his family home, feeling his legs drag underneath him. He doesn't even bother popping his head in the kitchen door – which is where he knows his single mom will be, cutting onions or something. At least that was the excuse she gave every time he asked if she was crying – as he pushes himself towards his bedroom door.

"Michael?"

His mom calls from the kitchen. He stops. He can hear her drop whatever knives and vegetables she's working with and appears at the doorway.

"Yeah?" He says absent-mindedly, amidst a yawn.

Her forehead creases as she looks at him. "I thought you were out tonight."

Crap.

His eyes widen.

The party is tonight.

Jessica is waiting for him – he glances at the time on his phone – right _now_ to pick her up.

Damn, how did he forget?

"Uh, yeah," he says, far more awake now. "I was." He shoots back towards the door, bag in tow, grabbing for the door handle.

And then he remembers.

He curses under his breath.

"I swear I'm going, mom," he promises, rushing, as he swings back around and hurries to his room. "Just- Just a sec-"

He skids into his room, darting his eyes around. What, in this useless room of his, can he give to Matt as a secret santa present? His eyes pass the half used deodorant can on his bedside table. He grabs it. He shakes it. Not full enough to pass. He pulls open his beside drawer, pulling out an old, library book. So _that's_ where that went. He was supposed to return it weeks ago.

He pulls out a packet of condoms. He hums. He could. But too crude. He shoves it back in the drawer.

He spins around, staring at the mess of his floor. There has got to be something here. He flicks through magazines and lost underwear that didn't quite make it to the laundry basket. Nothing.

He curses. Matt really might have to do with that 'homework covering incident' after all.

And then he tugs on a shirt that is half tucked into his chest of drawers. He pulls it out, studying it. It takes one whiff of it for him to judge that it'll do, and he grabs a nearby plastic bag, throwing it in. "Never really liked that shirt anyway," he muses aloud.

It even has a vague football logo on the front. People might actually think he put some thought into it. Perfect.

With a confident sigh, he pulls himself to his feet and pushes himself out of his door.

"I'm going!" he calls out into the almost empty house, pulling open the front door.

"Don't be home late!" his mom calls back.

 _ _Can't promise anything__ _._

And he closes the door.


	7. Jess

Jess

Jess had waited a very _impatient_ thirty-five minutes. Which were mainly spent looking at her phone, swearing under her breath at Michael, checking her over outfit one more time, swearing at Michael _again_. And then she had to spend five minutes taking selfies. Or ten...

Or fifteen.

When he had _finally_ arrived, strolling so easily up in his car, her feet were already aching in her heels. Even as she tapped them impatiently against the concrete of her front porch steps. And she was fully prepared to murder him with her killer glare.

"What time do you call _this_ , Michael?" She hooked her hand at her waist, popping her hip sharply and shooting him with a very unamused, eyebrow raised stare.

He'd simply grinned lazily back at her, arm swung out of the open, car window. "Time you kill 'em all in that dress." He'd proceeded to drag his eyes up and down her body, whistling slow and long.

Jess had grinded her teeth for about a total of two seconds before she had surrendered.

"Fine," she'd huffed, clomping down the steps to the car, trying to keep her stern expression. But even her lips were fan girls of Mike. They tugged with a flirtatious smile. Traitors. "You get away with it _this_ time."

He'd winked with ease, leaning across the car to open her door from the inside. "I always do."

 _Smooooooooth._

The car rolls up the drive of the Washington Estate, gravel crunching underneath the wheels.

For a minute, Mike hovers his eyes towards Jessica and she's in the firm mind that he's about to kiss her. Totally welcome, by the way. And then he just quirks a single eyebrow, the side of his lips going with it, and says, "Here goes nothing."

Mike slings his arm casually around the back of Jess' waist as they walk - or _attempt_ to walk in her case - up to the Washington estate.

"Finally," Sam sighs with a smile when she opens the door for the two of them. Shouldn't Josh be doing the welcoming? Or at least one of the Washingtons. Jess rolls her eyes. Well, Sam is as much of a Washington as the rest of them.

Mike, with his cocky glance, smiles breezily as he guides Jess up the steps and through the door to-

"Hold up," Sam throws her arm up, stopping them in there tracks. Huh? Jess glances at Sam in shock horror, her expression crumbling into disgust. Sam simply just eyes her back, smiling slowly. "No coming in until you drop your gifts in the bag." It's almost a threat. Like she's a police woman. Like the gifts are guns. Like they're a danger to society.

Jessica chuckles. They might be.

"Sure," Jessica complies, pulling her small, tightly wrapped gift out of her pocket, a big label with the name **Josh** scrawled on top of it, and plopping it into the Santa sack tied to the door handle.

Mike grumbles, passing Sam a reluctant glare. She simply smiles back smugly. Heh, he deserves it. Slowly, he pulls a crumpled up plastic bag out of his own jacket pocket and drops it in the sack. "Ta da."

" _Thanks_ , Mike," Sam eyes him sarcastically, evidently trying not to grimace.

"Hey," he eyes her back as he slips past her, Jessica in tow. Jessica almost trips over her heels, he's moving that fast. "You should be grateful," He calls back to Sam the host. "No wrapping paper. Saving trees." He shrugs with ease, lighting his face with a smirk. Damn, he looks hot like that.

Sam rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. She glares daggers into his back. "Plastic is _worse_ , Mike."


	8. Sam

Sam

Sam clicks the front door closed behind her; the sound of silence. She sighs against it, watching Mike and Jess stride easily through the house as if they own the place. They practically do. A flicker of a smile is a memory on her lips. It feels like so long since they've all been together like this. Ever since Hannah and Beth...

Sam pushes herself from the door. Don't remind yourself of that, Sam. This is Christmas. You're supposed to be happy.

Decisively, Sam snaps her focus to just that; Christmas. Pulling it off the handle, she yanks the draw stringed sack closed and hoists it over her shoulder.

Well, she had the sack. Now she'd just have to find the Santa.

* * *

"I am _not_ dressing up as a creepy, bearded old man who uses slave labour," Josh pouts decidedly, trying his best – in his obviously _drunk_ state – to cross his arms tight over his chest. He half snarls at her, his eyes dark and glossy and very much glaring at her. To be fair, she had pretty much cornered him. When he had been at his weakest. Loitering in the kitchen with no beer can in his hand. Poor boy was unarmed.

"Come _on_ ," Sam pleads, pulling on her best puppy dog eyes. It wasn't hard. She'd had plenty of practice. Especially after Josh and Chris had decided to prank her by, unbeknownst to her, signing her up to useless, ridiculous email subscriptions. Amongst the "A Shed A Day" and "Martial Arts Facts" subscriptions that she'd had to grudgingly sift through and unsubscribe, was "Cute Puppies". Needless to say, she'd stayed subscribed to that one. Not that she'd ever told Chris. Or Josh.

They would never let her live it down.

"You're supposed to be the _host_ here," she says commandingly.

"No," Josh aims to stab Sam in the shoulder with his index finger, but missing multiple times. He ends up settling with poking her straight in the cheek. " _You're_ the host here. Hey, here's a wild idea," he adds dramatically, his drunk eyes flashing wildly with sarcasm. "Why don't _you_ do it? Feminism and all that."

"That's not how feminism works, Josh."

And," Josh, completely missing Sam's words, adds pointedly, hiccuping in the middle of a phrase. A sloppy eyebrow rises further and further up his forehead, "Ashley probably still believes in Santa, _Samantha_." His smirk is clumsy on his lips. Sam cringes at his use of her full name. He notices. "Do you really want the responsibility of breaking her _heart_?"

Sam sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. It takes her a second to shrug and mutter under her breath; "It might actually be the kick up the butt Chris needs to make a move."

Josh grimaces, like he's battling with himself to come up with a good come back. Evidently, his drunk mind is not up to scratch. He huffs, puffing his cheeks up like a child.

Sam chuckles under her breath. She's got the upper hand. And, without losing her hold, she steps forward and shoves the sack against Josh's chest. His eyes widen in shock, his hands stumbling to grip it before it falls to the floor in a heap.

Sam eyes him carefully. "Just- please."

Josh puffs, air draining out of his mouth slow and long. "Only for you, Sam."

Sam smirks smugly; "I wouldn't expect anything less."


	9. Josh 2

Josh

" _All I want for Christmaaaaas is yooooooooooouu."_

Josh swings the sack idly in his hand, not really even caring as it scuffs and bangs against the wall. The beard is scratching his chin. _Scratch scratch scratch._ And the hat keeps sliding from his head, so much so it's now at the point of hanging over his eyes. And it smells trivially like a dead animal just died in it. Josh grimaces and grumbles. Where had Sam found this costume? The black market?

Josh – aka a very _unhappy_ Santa Claus – has been loitering outside the living room door for the past eternity. He did, at one point, consider just abandoning everyone and stealing all the gifts – however crappy – for himself. And then he remembered that this was his own house. And he wouldn't get very far. Especially if Sam was on his tail.

 _Sam. Ugh._ Josh huffs under his breath. He's been waiting for Sam's signal – which Josh had totally not paid attention to when she'd told him about it. It's either going to be "Jingle bells" or "Jingle my balls", he hasn't decided yet – for the last twenty minutes. And in that time, he has heard Emily and Jessica scratch each others eyes out, Matt talk _on and on_ about football, Mike drawl through bottles of beers, Jessica casually mentioning that she thought Josh was hot (Josh liked _that_ one), and now Chris and Ashley have been forced into _screeching_ a duet rendition of that Mariah Carey classic.

 _Cringe._ Josh knows its Chris. He would recognise that voice anywhere. Chris once attempted to sing the whole of Bohemian Rhapsody in Josh's close proximity. Josh is pretty sure he got sent to the ER after that for a burst eardrum.

Behind the door, Sam claps her hands loudly. Josh knows its her. She once clapped in his close proximity. He got sent to the ER for that one too.

"I think it's time," she sounds excited as Chris and Ashley's voices slip away at the end of the song. And they sound just as awkward as they did before they started. _Smooth move, bro._ Sam coughs loudly. "Jingle Bells!"

If Josh had been involved, he would have chosen a _much better_ song for the two love birds to sing. It's just a tricky decision to choose between that Hozier classic, "Take me to the bone zone" or everyone's Christmas favourite, "Slay Ride". But "Jingle my balls" was always going to be a contender-

"Jingle _Bells_!"

"Oh," Josh sparks awake. Sam's voice is almost burning in his ears. He groans. He sighs. He puts on his most 'I'm a creepy stalker' worthy smile and finally pushes the door open.


	10. Sam 2

Sam

"Ho ho hoe!" Josh – in his full, straggly Santa costume – drawls as he stumbles into the room, sack dragging on the floor behind him. Sam almost face palms herself. She gave him one job.

Ashley laughs. Chris snorts.

Emily gawks. She looks horrified.

"Is that _Josh_?" Jess blinks. She looks ridiculously confused. I think she needs glasses more than Chris does. A minute ago, she was saying how hot she thought Josh was. Sam chuckles under her breath. I bet she's regretting it.

"I know, I know," Josh mutters under his breath, sloppily dropping down onto the nearest empty chair. "I'm all you ever wanted. Merry _Christmas_."

Matt just cringes. He looks glad that it wasn't _him_ who'd been forced into this ridicule. Sam just giggles. She can feel Josh glare at her. She smiles smugly back.

Sam opens her mouth, about to force Josh to actually do his proper job, when Ashley spontaneously yells, " _Presents!_ "

Sam's pretty sure she heard Josh groan.

* * *

Ashley rips the badly wrapped paper off her present eagerly, her eyes alight. Sam doesn't think Chris got the message when Sam had explicitly called it ' _Secret_ Santa'. Because, right before Josh had violently _thrown_ her present to her, Chris had leaned over and whispered, "I hope you like it." That had instantly made Ashley even more excited.

"I _love_ it!" Ashley squeals, dangling the silver necklace out of the packaging. It looks like a little, silver book charm at the end of a simple chain. Chris probably found it on etsy or some place. Either way Ashley seems to love it. Which makes Chris grin like an idiot.

Why can't they get _together_ already?

Chris had opened Sam's present to him. It was two tickets to a local convention all about mobile apps or something else to do with video games. Sam had stumbled upon the advertisement at the grocery store of all places and had thought it would be perfect for him. The tickets weren't very expensive but Chris looks surprisingly pleased with the gift, sending thanks into the room.

Sam smiles smugly.

And maybe, if he has the guts, he'll invite Ashley to come with him.

Emily had grudgingly opened up her gift. But her expression had changed in an instant. She had looked genuinely shocked at the pretty plain, fabric tassel key-chain that came out. It was probably the brand label that had clinched it. "This is really expensive," she'd muttered under her breath, her eyes wide.

Sam had heard Ashley cringe through her teeth.

It had been Mike who'd opened up his gift next. He'd stared at it for a moment before bursting out laughing. It was a photo frame – which was totally normal, except for the photo that had been placed in it. A perfectly framed picture of a well manicured hand giving him the middle finger.

"I shall _treasure it_ ," he'd snorted. Emily had glared.

Jess had followed, opening up a pink phone case. Which Sam wasn't even sure if it was for the right model. Matt had followed up suite, peeling open Mike's plastic bag and pulling out the shirt. "Thanks..." he'd said slowly. "I... love it..." And Mike had proceeded to give him a friendly slap on the back.

Josh had pulled out another, small present from the sack, glancing at the name. His eyes had instantly widened, grinning. "Oh, this one's for me!" And then he'd instantly coughed, remembering who he was _supposed_ to be. "I mean Josh, er, Josh. I'll give it to him later." He'd shrugged, placing it aside.

It had only taken a second for Sam to catch a glimpse of Emily sending Matt a sharp glare. He had proceeded to smile sheepishly, shrugging slowly. Oh, he was going to be in trouble later.

Josh digs his hand into the sack once more, rummaging around. He comes up empty. "Well, that's it," he lets out a slow, relieved breath, tugging down his beard. He slumps back in his chair.

The room falls into silence. Suddenly, the magic is all gone. There's an emptiness in Sam's stomach.

"What about Sam?" Ashley had perked up. She was now wearing her newly presented necklace.

"Yeah," Emily adds, though Sam doesn't think she has stopped glaring at Matt since. "Wasn't she supposed to get something too?"

"Eh..." Josh peers into the sack one more time, grimacing at its emptiness.

Suddenly, everyone starts staring around the room as if they are trying to decipher the culprit of this _horrible_ act of not gift giving. And suddenly, they are in an Agatha Christie novel.

"Hey-" Sam starts, pulling herself to her feet. "Honestly, it doesn't matter. I'm- I'm good." She smiles. She hides the hurt in the pit of her stomach. Not everybody looks so convinced.

Sam knows exactly who it is. She knows who didn't bring her gift. It is the only person who didn't put something into the sack.

"I'll go get some snacks," she coughs, pushing her way through the room and out of the living room.

And she lets out a long sigh. And she drags her way to the kitchen.

Had she really expected him to give her something? Had she really thought he cared about this – about _her –_ enough? Sam drags the breath out of her lips, slow and long. She pulls a bowl out of a nearby cupboard, grabbing a packet of popcorn and-

"Sorry, Sam."

She stiffens. She drops the popcorn. Hah, how ironic. She now knows how awkward it is to be cornered in the kitchen. Right after she'd done it to _him_.

"It's fine," she says into the kitchen counter. She won't turn around and face him. She doesn't even know if she can. Especially if it means she might cry – or burst out laughing at him in his costume. "You said weren't going to buy anything anyway. I wasn't expecting anything..."

That's a lie. She was.

She had been expecting. Or maybe not expecting, but hoping. Hoping that if it was her he had to buy for, maybe he would want to. Maybe he would care enough to. Maybe he would love to...

Maybe she had been too hopeful. She lets her shoulders slump.

Josh swallows behind her. "No, actually," he coughs awkwardly. Sam can't tell if he's drunk or not. His feet shuffle. "I just- I didn't want you to open it in front of everyone else."

What?

Sam spins around. She stares. Her forehead creases. Her eyes widen. She gapes, looking at Josh. At Josh and Josh and the small, sloppily wrapped box in his hand.

"Wait..." Sam narrowed her eyes, not quite believing what she's seeing. A little smile quirks at the edges of her lips. Something flutters in her stomach.

"Open it," he ushers it towards her with a persistent – and is that slightly embarrassed? - stare, "Before I chicken out and change my mind."

A laugh bubbles out of her lips. She catches his gaze. She reaches forward. She takes the box. She unwraps it.

She opens it.

She gasps.

"Josh..." she manages to squeeze the word out of her mouth before the tears start teetering over her eyes. Her hands are shaking around the small, velvet box.

"She would have wanted you to have it," he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. As if he wishes he could be anywhere but here. Not that Sam even cares anymore. Her world is shaking. Her eyes are shaking. Her head is shaking.

"This is... This is..." Sam tries to speak. She tries to say something. _Anything_. But instead she's just throwing herself forward and flinging her arms around Josh. Tight and tight and hugging him.

He stiffens. He swallows. And then she feels him hug her back.

"Thank you," she murmurs against his cheek. And she just about feels him smile.

Because, in the small velvet box, is a small, silver necklace. With a butterfly hanging from it.

Hannah's.


End file.
